Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice; For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am. Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: And not my brother. Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, but not the actor of it! Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done: Mine were the very cypher of a function, To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor. Isab. O just, but severe law!. I had a brother then. Heaven keep your Ho nour! [Retiring. Lucio. To ISAB] Give't not o'er so: to him again, intreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; Isab. Must he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't. Isab. But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. no wrong, 'If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him? Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. VOL. II. Lucio. You are too cold. [To ISABELLA. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believe this, And you as he, you would have slipt like him; Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus ? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner. Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein. [Aside. Ang. Your brother is the forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. Isab. Alas! alas! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; Ang. Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: morrow. he must die to Isab. To morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him; He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my Lord, be think you Who is it that hath died for this offence? There's many have committed it. Lucio. Ay, well said. Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, Isab. Yet show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall; And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. Isab. So you must be the first, that gives thi sentence; And he, that suffers: 0, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous, To use it like a giant. Lucio. That's well said. Isab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle; O, but man, proud man! Drest in a little brief authority; Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastick tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; He's coming; I perceive't. Prov. Pray heaven she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; But, in the less, foul profanation. Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't. Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Isab. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice o' the top: bosom; Go to your Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life. Ang. She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. you well. Isab. Gentle, my Lord, turn back. Fare Ang. I will bethink me: * Come again to morrow. Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my Lord, turn back. Ang. How! bribe me? Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share with you. Lucio. You had marr'd all else. Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor, As fancy values them: but with true prayers, That shall be up at heaven, and enter there, Ere sun rise; prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. Ang. Well come to me To-morrow. Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. Isab. Heaven keep your Honour safe! [Aside to ISABEL. [Aside. Ang. Amen: for I Am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. Isab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your Lordship? Isab. Save your Honour! [Exeunt LUCIO, ISABELLA, and Provost. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue! What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine? |